


One of These Days

by Rehearsal_Dweller



Series: The Edie AU [2]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Period-Typical Sexism, genderswap AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller
Summary: Five times Race and Daveyalmostkissed, and the first time they actually managed to pull it off.
Relationships: Crutchie & Racetrack Higgins, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins/David Jacobs
Series: The Edie AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966081
Comments: 24
Kudos: 39





	One of These Days

**Author's Note:**

> Because 1. I love this AU idea and 2. the potential for Race and Davey to get interrupted was just too good.
> 
> (we're gonna suspend our disbelief about where race lives, though, because i cannot be assed to introduce an extra location and it's so much funnier if she lives with jack.)

Things don’t change overnight, even after Race spills about how she feels for Davey. In fact, it’s so the same that if Race weren’t _physically feeling_ the uptick in her heart rate when Davey smiled at her, she wouldn’t believe anything had happened.

But oh, does her heart speed up. Race can’t help but feel like Davey _knows_ what he’s doing to her, because he keeps shooting her these sweet smiles across the room that make her feel like she can’t breathe.

When one of the seats next to Race’s opens up, he moves to sit next to her. Davey’s chair is a respectable few inches away from Race’s, but his knee bumps against hers under the table and she’s sure her heart stops.

“How’s it goin’, Davey?” Race asks, and she’s pretty impressed with how normal she sounds. She doesn’t meet his eye, because she figures she won’t be able to hold it together if she does.

“Just swell, sweetheart,” says Davey, grinning.

“Oh, _sweetheart_?” Race repeats. Her cheeks are pink, but she finds she doesn’t mind.

“Is that alright?” Davey asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Race says, maybe a little too fast. “Yeah, it’s – it’s nice.”

“Good,” says Davey. “I’m glad. That it’s nice.”

Race glances over at him, catching his eye, and his smile lights up that much more.

“What?” she says.

“I dunno, I just like lookin’ at’cha,” says Davey, flushing a little pink himself.

Race bumps her knee against Davey’s, on purpose this time.

He laughs. “Miss _Higgins_.”

“Mr. Jacobs,” Race replies as daintily as possible. “You’re sitting awfully close.”

Davey scoots his chair an inch or so closer to hers. “Is that a problem?”

Race leans toward him, nudging him with her shoulder. She regrets it almost instantly because of the almost electric buzz that floods through her from the point of contact. “No, darlin’, I think you’re just right right where you are.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” says Davey.

He’s very close, now. The noise and chaos of the other boys has sort of faded into the background, leaving Race wholly and undistractably caught up in Davey.

He’s leaning in a little, like he might whisper something or maybe even kiss her, but Albert shoves in between them.

“Davey, you took my seat!”

“You weren’t sitting in it,” Davey points out, laughing.

“Still my seat!” says Albert, rolling his eyes. “ _Obviously._ Racer on one side, Crutch on the other. I was comin’ back!”

“I was just keeping Race company while you were –“ Davey raises his eyebrow, looking Albert over – “doing whatever the fuck it is you and Elmer were doing just now.”

Race snorts in a ridiculously unladylike way. “It’s called bein’ idiots, Davey, you gotta keep up with this shit.”

“We were settling a bet!” Albert protests.

“Could’a fooled me,” says Davey.

“Yeah, looked a lot more like you were rollin’ all over the goddamn floor,” Race agreed.

“I hate you.”

“Then you’ll be fine with Davey keepin’ your seat!”

“Nope,” says Albert. He then unceremoniously hip checks Davey off of the seat and onto the ground.

And, look, Race likes Davey. She likes Davey a _lot_. More than she’s really comfortable putting too much hard thought into, because the harder she thinks on it the more it looks like something closer to love, which is terrifying.

But none of that stops her from bursting into startled and delighted laughter when Davey hits the ground, because sweetheart or not, it was fucking hilarious.

\--

It’s the first morning that Race might actually call _cold_ this year, not that she’d admit that to anybody.

So she’s standing at distribution, shivering and pretending that she isn’t, telling herself that she will wear a third shirt tomorrow. It’s too late to do anything about today.

Only then –

“Race!” Davey calls, walking over with Les in tow. “Aren’t you freezing?”

“No,” Race lies, because she has her fucking pride. “I got two shirts on, s’fine.”

“I have two shirts, a sweater, _and_ a jacket and I’m still chilly, doll.”

“Then maybe you ain’t as attuned to New York winters as I am.”

“I can _see_ you shivering,” Davey says. He shakes his head. “Race, come on. Do you have a coat?”

She shrugs. “I gave it’a Elmer. He shot up like a fuckin’ weed this year, his don’t fit no more.”

“Of course you did,” says Davey. “Of course you did. ‘Cause you look out for your boys better’n you look out for yourself.”

“Damn straight.”

“Here,” Davey says, shrugging out of his own coat. “Take mine.”

“No, Davey, I can’t,” says Race. She takes a step closer to him to push the coat back toward him when he holds it out. “ _Davey_.”

“ _Racer_ ,” Davey replies. “The wind today is no joke.”

“Exactly, which is why I can’t take your coat from you,” Race says.

“I’ve got two more layers than you, I can stand to lose one to even things out,” says Davey.

“I can handle a little cold air.”

“Humor me, please,” Davey says, and he’s got this look in his eye that Race has seen there before – this look that says _nothing you can say is going to change my fucking mind_. It’s a look that led the newsboy strike to success. Quite honestly, it sets her heart racing just as much as the sweet look he usually saves for her. “I swear to God, Racetrack Higgins, I will stand here until you put this damned coat on, even if we both miss out on a day of work for it.”

“Stubborn bastard,” Race says fondly, because he _will_ and he _is_ and it’s one of the things she lo- likes about him. “Just until we’ve got our papers.”

“I’ll take it,” says Davey. He hands her the jacket, not bothering to help her into it. He seems to have accepted that if he tries to help her any more she’ll fight back.

Davey’s coat is a little broad for Race in the shoulders, a little long in the sleeve, but she’s instantly warmer – both because she was much colder than she was willing to admit before, and because the gesture of the whole thing lights a flame in her chest she can’t put even if she wants to.

“Thanks,” Race mumbles.

Davey reaches out to straighten the front of the coat for her. He’s very careful not to actually touch _Race_ , just his own jacket, but the contact still sends a little thrill through Race.

He’s so _close_.

It would be so easy to –

“ _Ugh_ , are you two done?” Les whines.

Davey springs away from Race, as if suddenly remembering how public a place they’re in.

“Yes, I – Race, feel free to hold onto that for the day,” Davey says, his cheeks red, and not just from the biting late fall breeze.

Race grins up at him. “I may just take you up on that, Davey.”

“I’ll, uh, see you later then, Racer,” says Davey.

“See you,” says Race.

Les groans loudly. “Are you _done_?”

“ _Yes_ , Les,” says Davey. “Let’s go get our papers.”

Race is giggling all the way to her selling spot.

\--

The evening is just as biting cold as the morning, and Davey walks Race home. It’s all proper-like, with her holding onto his elbow just like Kathy does when she and Jack go walking. They talk as they walk, Race recounting a mishap from earlier in the day and Davey studiously not telling her how dumb climbing onto a moving cart in a drizzle is a thing to do. It’s easy, light. It makes Race’s head spin.

All too soon, they’re standing outside the building, making all kinds of excuses not to say goodnight. Never mind that they’ll see each other tomorrow.

“Oh!” Race says, and it’s so abrupt that Davey actually startles a little. “Your coat, Davey.”

“No, hold on to it,” Davey says, shaking his head.

“I _can’t_ ,” says Race. She rolls her eyes. “What would your mama say if you came home without a coat?”

“I’m thinking more of what she’d say if Les told her I’d let my girl go running around New York in this weather _without_ offering her my coat,” Davey says through a laugh.

“Oh, I’m your girl, now?” says Race, and she’s laughing too but her heart is racing and that warmth from earlier is back.

Davey flushes bright red, ducking his head. “I – if you’d like to be, I mean.”

“Davey,” Race says, nudging him so he’ll look at her face again, “I’m teasing. ‘Course I’m your girl, if you want me to be.”

“Oh,” says Davey. His face lights up, his smile wide but his eyes soft, like he almost can’t believe he’s looking at her. Race knows the feeling.

She slips her arms out of the coat, pressing it back into his arms. “Your jacket, Davey. It’s awful cold now, can’t have my guy catchin’ chills either.”

Davey smiles that much wider at that, taking the coat with one hand while the other comes up to cup Race’s cheek.

“See you tomorrow?” Davey says softly.

“See you tomorrow,” Race echoes. Her heartrate picks up, because Davey is leaning in and his hand is still on her cheek and –

Another hand grips Race’s shoulder firmly, pulling her away from Davey. She realizes all at once – even before she _sees_ the body the hand belongs to – that she knows exactly whose it is, because it’s a hand that has pulled her out of many, many fights.

“Jack!” she says, half admonishing and half whining.

“I just need’ta talk to Davey for a minute before he goes home,” Jack says, casual as anything, still holding onto Race’s shoulder. “You don’t mind, do ya, Racer?”

“I do mind, actually, I mind quite a lot,” says Race. God above, does Race hate Jack right now. “Davey and I were actually kind of in the middle of something –“

“Oh, I noticed, Edie-girl,” says Jack. He sounds like he’s enjoying this entirely too much. “That’s what me’n Dave gotta talk about.”

“ _Jack_ ,” Race whines. “C’mon, Jacky –“

“Nope,” Jack says. “Why don’cha head on in? Albo’s lookin’ for ya.”

“Only if you’ll come with me,” says Race.

“Not happening, girlie,” says Jack. He pushes her lightly toward the door. “Little sisters only start seein’ their first suitor once, you know.”

“You know you’re not _actually_ my brother, right, Jacky?” Race says pointlessly.

“You wound me,” Jack says, still sounding like he’s having entirely too much fun. “I tell you that I love you like family, and you –“

“I love you, Jack, but please –“

“Race,” Davey cuts in softly. “It’s alright. Jack’s just looking out for you, I can take it.”

“Ain’t like I got honor to defend,” Race grumbles.

“Sure you do,” says Jack. He gives her a one-armed hug. “I’ll go easy on’im, promise.”

“You fuckin’ better,” says Race. “Goodnight, Davey. Sorry.”

Davey laughs. “Goodnight, Racer.”

\--

They’re at a union meeting, and Race is getting fed the fuck up with Robin-from-the-Bronx. That’s because Robin-from-the-Bronx is a fucking asshole, and she hates him and she’s always hated him and he keeps making sly comments about how Manhattan and Brooklyn can’t be so tough with _girls_ in charge, and Race knows if she hits him Hotshot from Brooklyn will back her up because they keep making knowing eye contact across him, but Race is really, _really_ trying to keep her cool.

“Race is _right_ , Robin,” Spot says, and Race is happy to hear that he’s clearly more than a little irritated himself. She’s counted him a friend for a long time now, and anyway she’s pretty sure he and Hotshot are blood related, but it feels good to see that played out like this. Particularly because this is Spot Conlon, who famously takes no shit. “Gettin’ hung up on turf boundaries’s only gonna hurt us in the long run. The whole point’a this union thing is supporting each other – we’re all better off if our kids know each other and trust each other. I say let’em be friends.”

“Never thought I’d see Spot Conlon spewin’ that kinda girly bullshit,” Robin says, rolling his eyes. “I ain’t stoppin’ my boys pickin’ fights if they thinks somebody’s gettin’ too close.”

“Nobody’s suggesting we completely drop our boundaries, especially where it comes to selling, either,” Hotshot points out. “Only that if we’re a little more flexible about letting kids move around and develop bonds with newsies from other areas of the city, we’ll be stronger as a group.”

“ _Girly. Bullshit_ ,” Robin repeats. “We’ve been fine for years how things was –“

“Kids from Manhattan could have _died_ if the rest of the city’s newsies hadn’t gotten involved in the strike,” Jack says, his arms crossed. “And you almost didn’t, ‘cause we didn’t have strong relationships between the different groups of newsies. We didn’t trust each other.”

“Yeah, well, Manhattan and Brooklyn can let their girls lead them in some fuckin’ togetherness songs or some shit, then, but the Bronx is stayin’ how we is.”

“Coul’ja clarify somethin’ for me, Rob?” Race says, her voice dangerous. “Do you hate this idea because you don’t have any friends yourself, or is it just ‘cause a girl brought it up and you can’t stomach agreein’ with me? ‘Cause, lemme tell ya, if it’s just that you’s embarrassed at how shit you are at gettin’ along with people, I’m a lot more inclined to be patient with you.”

“Lord, Race, you’re lucky I don’t hit girls,” Robin replies.

“Unlucky for you,” Race says, throwing herself forward, “I have no such reservations about hittin’ boys!”

All too soon, Race is being pulled off of Robin. It’s a sensation she’s intimately familiar with, the strong arm around her waist dragging her back, and she’s wiggling against the grip. “Aw, come on, Jacky, he fuckin’ deserves it.”

“Race,” Davey’s voice says, and all at once it occurs to Race that she can still _see_ Jack, which means the person holding her is –

She twists around, still held, to look up at Davey’s face. She manages to squeak out, “Davey!”

“Race,” Davey repeats. “You can’t.”

“But I really want to,” says Race, slightly petulant. “He deserves it.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he replies softly. “But you can’t.”

He’s still got an arm hooked around her, his hand open on the small of her back, and she’s very aware that her feet are on the ground but there isn’t really any weight on them.

“Davey,” Race says again, a little breathless this time. “Hi.”

“Hi, Race,” Davey replies, smiling. For a brief moment, it feels an awful lot like they’re caught up in a bubble, just the two of them.

This is maybe the closest Race’s face has ever been to Davey’s, and it’s got her head spinning.

Behind Race, someone clears their throat.

“You two good over there?” Spot says, unimpressed.

Suddenly, the bubble pops. Davey full on _drops_ Race, who was tipped back over her feet, and she overbalances and falls.

“Shit!” Davey says, holding a hand out to help Race up. “Fuck, Race, I’m sorry.”

Race is laughing, though. She can’t help it, this whole thing is just too funny. She lets Davey pull her to her feet, though, and tries to ignore the way her skin seems to buzz at the contact.

\--

“Hey, Racer, you got a minute?” Davey says, catching Race by the wrist as the boys walk into Jacobi’s.

“Always, for you, sweetheart,” Race replies with an exaggerated grin and a wink.

“I was thinking,” says Davey, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Ooh, dangerous,” says Race. “And I mean that. You got a helluva mind, Davey Jacobs. I pity anybody who you put your mind to thinkin’ against.”

Davey laughs. “I could say the same about you.”

“What’ve you been thinkin’ about, sugar?” Race asks.

“I’d like to do something with you sometime,” Davey says, all a bit of a jumble. He’s blushing, not quite meeting her eye. “Like, just the two of us, I mean. We could go someplace.”

Race laughs, and if Jack were here he’d tease her for how much it sounds like an honest-to-God giggle. “Well. I do happen to like doing things in places at times.” Davey rolls his eyes, and Race smiles up at him. “And you, Davey-boy. I do like you an awful lot.”

“What a delightful coincidence,” Davey replies. He bites his lip a little nervously, which Race’s eye can’t help being drawn to. “I happen to like you an awful lot, too.”

“Oh, yeah?” says Race, stepping a little closer to him. They’re still outside, and the wind is chilly, but Race barely even notices it.

Davey takes her hand and she’s almost sure her heart stops.

“Davey? Race?” Crutchie says.

Race resists the urge to groan out loud.

“What’re you two still doin’ out here? You’ll catch your death, Edie-girl,” says Crutchie. He’s come up from behind them, apparently the last of their group to arrive.

“I was just talkin’ to Davey, Crutch,” Race says, rolling her eyes. “We was gonna go in in a sec.”

Crutchie crosses his arms. “Edith Margaret Higgins, go inside. I ain’t got time for your whinin’ if you catch cold, girlie.”

“Yes, _Mama_ ,” says Race.

He indicates for her to lead the way inside, and she rolls her eyes but does. Davey walks next to her, bumping his arm against hers.

“Margaret?” he says, somewhere between amused and genuinely interested.

“What’s it to you?” Race says, somewhere between amused and embarrassed. Not so much about her name as being caught by Crutchie.

Davey shrugs. “I’m always learnin’ new things about you, Racer.”

“You got one?” says Race. “A middle name?”

“Ezra,” Davey replies, nodding.

“Davey Ezra Jacobs,” Race says thoughtfully.

“My mama tends to call me David.”

“Pssh. _David.”_ Race bumps her arm against his, too. “Nah, Davey’r nothin’, sweetheart.”

“I dunno,” says Davey. “I don’t think I mind you callin’ me sweetheart.”

If Race’s cheeks go any more red at that, Davey very kindly doesn’t mention it.

\--

_Let’s go someplace sometime and do something_ turns into a chilly picnic between editions the following Thursday – it’s really a bit cold for it to be comfortable, but Race nestles in close to Davey and listens to him talk about whatever comes to mind.

Race has never been one for stillness or quiet, really, but something about being close to Davey helps her slow down and _listen_. She still fidgets – she fusses with the hem of her skirt and the loose threads on her vest where there’s a button missing she hasn’t had time to replace yet and the tips of Davey’s fingers – but it’s not the same rapid, constant motion as usual.

“I’d like you to come over for dinner sometime soon,” Davey says, a little nervous, as they walk back toward the World. “My parents and sister are dying to meet you.”

“You talk about me often, Davey?” Race says, and it’s a little teasing but mostly to cover the skip of her heart and the way her breath caught.

“Too much, if Les is to be believed,” Davey replies, chuckling. “But Sarah loves to hear about you. She says she didn’t think I’d ever catch a girl’s eye.”

“Well, you’ve certainly caught mine,” says Race.

The World building is in sight, but Davey slows. “Hey.”

“What?” Race says.

“I am so damned tired of getting interrupted with you.” He shakes his head. “Do you – I mean, could we steal just one more minute together before we have to go back?”

“Gladly,” Race replies. She tugs him by the arm into an alley. It’s not entirely proper, but – well. This is Race. And anyway, they’re still more than visible from the street.

“Ra _cer_ ,” Davey says. “This isn’t quite what I meant.”

“Oh, you’d rather stay out on the street where Jacky or Crutchie could find us easy again?”

Davey shudders a little dramatically. “I see your point.”

He’s really close to her, because they were holding onto each other when they came in here, but somehow in the false privacy of being just away from the street it feels that much more intense. Davey seems to realize it at the same moment Race does, his eyes going a little wide and then flicking down ever so quickly to her lips.

“Hey, Davey?” Race says, breathless.

“Race?” replies Davey, just as soft and breathy.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks. “I’ve been – I’ve been kinda dyin’ to, if I’m honest.”

Davey laughs, but it’s with this soft, fond amusement that warms Race right to her core. “I’d like that a lot, Race.”

His hand comes up to her cheek, caressing it more gently than Race thinks she’s ever been touched in her life. She shifts up onto her toes a little, and he bends down, and their lips meet in the middle. His are a little chapped, and she can feel every single bit of dryness against her own lips, but she’s finding she doesn’t mind even though she would’ve thought it’d drive her crazy. Well, it _does_ drive her crazy, but for an entirely different reason. Because holy _shit_ , those are Davey’s lips on hers, sending sparks through her entire body from the point of contact.

It’s not a long kiss, not really anything more than a chaste press of lips to lips, either, but when they separate Race has gone a little dizzy.

“Woah, you alright, darlin’?” Davey says, catching her with a hand on her waist as she sways a tiny bit.

“Great,” says Race. “Really great. We oughtta do that again sometime, Davey.”

“Oh, yeah?” says Davey. She nods. He smiles softly at her, then ducks in for another quick kiss. “I’d like that very much, Edie.”

“ _Here_ they are!” Les’s voice shouts, snapping them back into reality. He’s at the end of the alley, gesturing toward them but facing down the street toward the World.

“Guess our time is up,” Race says.

“There’ll be other days,” replies Davey. “I’ll make sure of it.”


End file.
